The Otter's Rock

Part One · The Cove

Cleo was a young sea otter, and she was starving. She floated on her back in the cove while the fog sat on the water like a gray blanket. Beside her, her mother floated too, with a clam resting on her chest. Her mother lifted a flat rock in both paws and brought it down, and the shell split open with a crack.

Cleo wanted a clam of her own. All summer she had eaten her mother's clams, and she was tired of waiting for scraps. "Then go and find one," said her mother, rolling over to shake the water from her whiskers. "And find a rock, too. You will need both."

Cleo gulped a huge breath and dived. The cove was green and cold beneath the fog. Little crabs scuttled sideways across the sandy bottom, and one of them waved a claw at her. She found a clam almost at once, half buried, and tugged it loose. Then she kicked back up to the surface, rolled over, and settled the clam on her chest.

She bit the shell, and her teeth slid right off. She hit it with one paw, and then with her other paw, harder, but nothing happened. The clam rested on her chest like a smooth gray pebble and did not seem to care at all. Her brother Rook floated past with his mouth full. "You need a rock," he said, spraying crumbs.

Cleo already knew that. She tucked the clam under her chin and dived again, and on the bottom she found a flat, heavy rock that was exactly like her mother's. She grabbed it with both paws and kicked for the surface. Halfway up, the clam slipped out from under her chin and sank like a dropped coin. Bloop.

So she went back down for the clam. When she had the clam, she lost the rock, and when she had the rock, she lost the clam. Up and down she went until her chest was burning, and the crab on the bottom was laughing now. The fog went on sitting over the cove, and Cleo still had nothing to eat.

At last she held a clam on her chest again, and she stopped to catch her breath. A fat gray gull dropped onto the water beside her and looked at the clam. Then he looked at Cleo. "Mine," he screamed, or something very close to it, and he snatched the clam and flapped away over the rocks.

Cleo yelled until her whiskers shook. Far off, she heard a tiny crack as the gull dropped her clam on the rocks and ate it. When she turned around, Rook was finished eating. He had wrapped himself in kelp so the tide could not carry him off, and his round brown rock sat on his chest like a lid. He was snoring.

Cleo floated beside him and stared at that rock. It would be so easy, because Rook was asleep. She could slide it out from under his paws and crack her next clam before he ever noticed. Her paw crept slowly toward him, and then it stopped. She remembered the gull, and exactly how it felt to have your lunch snatched away.

Part Two · Both Paws

She let out a long breath and turned away from her brother, because she would find her own way. Her mother carried a rock up from the bottom every single time. So how did she carry a clam as well? Cleo scratched her ear and watched her mother across the water.

Her mother rolled over to dive. Just before she went under, she did something small and quick. She tucked her rock into a loose fold of skin under her arm, like a hand sliding into a pocket. Then she dived with both paws empty. Cleo stared. She lifted her own arm and felt along her side.

There it was. A loose, soft pouch of skin, right under her arm. Cleo poked it, and it stretched. She could have fit two rocks in there. "Oh," she said to nobody. "I have a pocket. I have had a pocket this whole time." Then she took the biggest breath of her life and went straight down.

The flat rock was still waiting on the sandy bottom. This time Cleo did not even try to carry it. She tucked it under her arm, and the pouch held it tight. With both paws free, she grabbed a fat clam and kicked for the surface. The crab on the bottom stopped laughing. It looked very impressed.

Cleo popped up through the fog and rolled onto her back. The clam went on her chest, and the rock came out of her pocket, and a gray shadow dropped out of the sky. It was the gull, back for seconds. "Not this time," said Cleo. She raised the rock in both paws and brought it down. Crack!

The shell split open, and the smell of the sea came out. Cleo ate the clam in three bites, before the gull could even land. It was the best thing she had ever tasted, and nobody had helped her at all. The gull stared at her, and she stared right back. Then she licked her paw very slowly.

Rook woke up and blinked at her. "Where did you get a rock?" he asked. "I found it twice," said Cleo. He did not understand that, and she did not bother to explain. She slid the flat rock back under her arm, where it fit as if it had always belonged there.

The fog began to lift. Cleo wrapped a strand of kelp around her middle, the way her brother had done, and let the swell rock her gently up and down. Her stomach was full, and her rock was in her pocket. Somewhere above, an annoyed gull was yelling at a clam on a rock, and Cleo closed her eyes.